


they know you walk like you're a god (they can't believe i made you weak)

by barbiewrites



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Choking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, Face Slapping, Incest, Kinda, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Masturbation, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn Watching, Sibling Incest, Spit Kink, Truth or Dare, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 01:39:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19819882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbiewrites/pseuds/barbiewrites
Summary: Matt & Brady play truth or dare.





	they know you walk like you're a god (they can't believe i made you weak)

**Author's Note:**

> pls heed warnings
> 
> title is from strange love by halsey

Brady is the one who barges into Matt’s room, beer in hand. 

“Leave,” Matt says, scrolling through his phone despite the Cards highlights playing on his TV. 

“No,” Brady says, climbing onto his bed and settling in, then passing one of the beers over to Matt. “We’re playing truth or dare.” 

“What are we,” Matt asks, looking for something on his bedside to open the beer with, “twelve?”

“Hey,” Brady reaches over, taps Matt with his bottle. “Get me.” 

Matt sighs through his nose, then sits up a little more so he can put the edge of the cap up against his desk, then hits it so the top pops off. He hands that one to Brady then does it again with the other bottle. 

Brady takes a sip. “So,” he says, “truth or dare?” 

Matt pretends to be paying attention to the Cards highlights again. “Dude, that shits literally for middle schoolers. Are you that bored? Call Quinn or something.”

“He’s busy,” Brady says quickly. “Besides. Not like you’re doing anything right now. Dare me.”

“I dare you to leave.”

“Truth me.”

“Uhh,” he says, still refusing to pay Brady his full attention. “What color is your underwear.” 

“That's a shitty truth,” Brady says, and Matt shrugs, absentmindedly mouthing at his bottle. “Blue.”

“You didn’t even check.”

“I don’t need to check, I changed, like, an hour ago.”

“Whatever,” Matt says, still disinterested, and Brady scoots a little closer to him. 

“Your turn.” 

Matt fixes him with a flat look, then takes a drink. “Truth.”

Brady thinks a minute. “Did you fuck Mitch?”

Matt makes a face at him, then takes a drink. “What?”

“Marner. I heard that you guys fucked a bunch on the Knights.”

“No, dude,” he says. “Like, once, after the Mem cup.”

“Did you and Matts fuck around?”

“You already asked your question. Go.”

Brady rolls his eyes, takes a drink. “Dare.”

“Dare you to let me wax your arm.”

“All of it?”

“I’ll just use one of Taryn’s wax strip things.”

Brady huffs. “Fine, but you have to go dig through her shit to get it.”

Matt does, coming back a minute later rubbing a wax pad on his shirt to warm it up. “Ready?” He asks, and Brady offers his arm. 

“Hold my hand,” Brady says, spreading his fingers out while Matt lies the waxing strip down. Matt takes Brady’s hand with one of his, then grabs the end of the wax strip. 

“Okay. Three, two --” He rips up and -- it’s like getting a five star, kind of. Which is, it stings like a motherfucker. Brady, though, isn’t going to let Matt get to see him flinch, so he just bites his lips together. 

“Barely felt it,” he says. 

“It ripped out so much hair,” Matt laughs, lifting it to the light 

“You’re so fucking weird,” Brady says as he runs a hand over his now smooth skin. “Truth or dare?”

Matt dumps it in the trash, then gets back in bed. “Uh, dare.”

“Take off your shirt.” 

“Shitty dare,” Matt says while pulling his shirt over his head. 

“Yours was ass, too,” Brady points out, eyes lingering on the little smattering of chest hair he had. 

“You, go. Truth or dare.”

“Truth.”

“True or false,” he takes another drink, “when Auston came over for, like, breaks and stuff, you listened to us hook up.”

Brady looks at him, how his mouth keeps lingering on the bottle. “So you did hook up with Matts.”

“You already knew that. Answer.”

“You two were pretty loud, so.”

“But you, like. Listened out for it.”

Brady hesitates. “I was, like, fifteen. Of course I did.” He takes another long drink of beer. “Your turn.”

“Perv,” he says, kicking at Brady’s thigh, but he’s got a little smile on his face. “Truth.”

“What kind of porn do you watch?”

“Why are all of your questions about sex?”

“Your question was just about sex!” He pinches Matt’s calf between his knuckles and Matt kicks at him again. “Why won’t you answer it? Is it, like, weird shit?”

“No,” Matt answers quickly. 

“Do, like. Top three genres.”

Matt gives him a look. “Like, I don’t know. Rimming and -- jock stuff. Spanking, sometimes.”

Brady thinks about that for a second. Matt’s perky ass getting slapped raw, turning pink and then red and mottled with bruises. He wonders if Auston ever did that to him, but he’s pretty sure he would have heard it if it happened with just a wall between them. He wonders if fights it, or if he just lies still and takes it. If he tries to keep off them or if he digs his fingers into them for days after while he jerks off. If he did it, he’d be mean about it. He’d fucking love it, too, getting to slap Matt’s ass over and over again until his hand was raw and Matt was crying. He thinks his brother would be a pretty crier. 

“Your turn,” Matt says, and Brady blinks. 

“Uh, dare.”

“Dare you to…. Send a dick pic to your most recents on snap.”

Brady scoffs. “Easy,” and grabs for his phone. He pulls his shorts out, planning on just taking one inside his underwear, but pulls them down at the last second. He’s half-hard and -- luckily, most of his recents have at least seen his dick before. He takes a picture and sends it off to his top eight. Matt’s phone dings.

He pulls his hand away and the elastic of his shorts shrinks back. It’s just low enough to keep the little tuft of curls peeking out of his waistband and the base of his cock exposed, too. 

“Truth or dare?” 

Matt keeps mouthing his bottle, and it’s -- distracting, frankly. “Dare.”

“Dare you to play the rest of the game naked.”

It’s not like Brady hasn’t been forward thus far. He has. It’s becoming harder and harder to ignore that Brady came in here to quench a certain curiosity and he’s getting exactly that. But Matt isn’t going to back down from a challenge, especially not one from his baby brother, so he pops up onto his knees. 

“You wanted to see my dick so bad, you could have just asked,” Matt smirks. 

“Shut up. You’re such a cocky -- fitting nickname for you. Cocky ass.”

“Fuck off,” Matt laughs, dropping his sweats beside him with his shirt. “You don’t know shit about that.”

“I so do know shit about that,” Brady laughs back. 

“What do you think you know?” Matt challenges. 

“That’s why I didn’t believe anyone when they said you fucked Marner,” Brady replies, matter-of-factly. “You’re both massive bottoms.”

“We figured out how to make it work,” Matt replies. 

“Was he tight?” 

“All guys are tight,” Matt replies cooly.

“You let Mitch Marner top you,” Brady says. “You -- you’re such a fucking bottom that you let Mitch Marner top you.”

“Can we get back to your dumb game?” Matt says, “Whose turn is it?”

“Mine. Uh --” he blinks, nearly forgetting that his last dare was for Matt to take his fucking pants off. Looking at his brother’s cock now, he takes it in properly. A little shorter, but thick. He’s shaved recently, manscaped it into a little square or something, but his balls and taint look smooth. Just as he’s wondering how far it goes back, Matt seems to notice him looking and shift a little, spreading his legs a tad and cupping a hand over his cock. “Dare,” Brady says. 

“You have to play the rest of the game naked, too.”

“You have shitty dares,” Brady says again, kicking off his pants. He gets up on his knees, finishes his beer and passes Matt the bottle to put on his bedside. “Your turn.”

“Truth,” he says after a minute, and Brady rolls onto his back. 

“What’s something guaranteed to turn you on?” He asks. 

“Uh,” Matt says dumbly. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Matt petting over the head of his own cock with his thumb. “I don’t know. I like -- getting slapped around and shit.”

“You ever been hard during a fight?”

“Like, on the ice?” He looks over at Brady.

“Yeah.”

Matt shakes his head. “No. Too much adrenaline, you know? Like, I’m too invested in the game to be thinking about getting hard or whatever.”

“What other kinds of fights are there?” 

“Like, when we used to wrestle and shit.”

“That got you hard?”

“Sometimes.”

“When I’d win, huh?” Brady asks with a grin. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Matt says, shaking his head with a smile. “Go. It’s your stupid turn.”

“Dare,” Brady says quickly. Dare me to touch your cock, he thinks. Dare me to bite your nipples. Dare me to lick your balls or fucking suck on your taint or fuck your thighs. Dare me to put my dick between your cheeks and bust over your lower back. Dare me to come down your throat, dare me to pull your hair and fuck your face. Dare me to eat your ass. Dare me to fuck you.

“I don’t know,” Matt sighs, “I don’t have any more dares.”

“Yours have all been shitty, anyway,” Brady says like he doesn’t give a fuck if they keep playing. “You can truth me if you want.”

“I don’t have any more shit to ask you and -- it’s not like I can’t ask you any of this shit normally. It’s not like you’d lie to me. Let’s just do something else.”

“So you, like. Knew, then, about me listening to you and Auston?”

Matt nods. “Oh, yeah. You were crazy obvious about it.” 

“No I wasn’t,” Brady scowls. 

“Yes, you were. You were always so red around us.”

“Shut the fuck up. It’s not like I had any choice but to listen, anyway, with you trying to be heard. And -- I’m not turning down free porn.”

He can see Matt’s hand still absentmindedly playing with his cock. “We could do that,” Matt suggests.

“Listen to you and Auston have sex?” Brady asks.   
“Watch porn.”

Brady swallows. “Yeah,” he says after a second. “Why not?”

Matt grabs his computer and flips it open while Brady moves to sit beside his brother, their thighs touching. Matt sets his laptop down, balancing it on their thighs. “What do you wanna watch?”

“Whatever,” Brady shrugs, and Matt pulls up the pornhub front page. “Just do recommended.”

Matt doesn’t seem to think too much of it as he clicks on it. Brady reads the titles as fast as he can, eyes skimming over ‘Frat jock gets bred in front of his friends,’ ‘He comes in me then eats me out,’ ‘Hung little brother..” 

He doesn’t get to see the end of that. “This one is so good,” Matt mutters as the page loads. Taking a pounding from my best friend’s brother. Matt offers him lotion, and he holds out his hand, then gives his cock a slow pump. 

The video doesn’t have any preamble. The curly-haired bottom has a fat ass and is loud, whiny, and the faceless top is fucking into him with some grunts here and there. Matt doesn’t waste any time, either, grabbing a hold of his cock and working himself, obviously eager to get going. 

“He kinda looks like you,” Brady says distantly, eyes trained on Matt’s sloppy handjob techniques rather than the video. 

“‘Cause he’s got curly hair?” Matt asks, half scoffing. 

“Yeah. And his ass,” Brady answers back. “You must give the fucking worst handjobs.”

“What?” Matt nearly laughs. 

Brady nods towards his dick. “Sloppy, man.” 

“Hands a hand,” Matt dismisses. “It gets me off fine.” 

Now that they’re both hard, it’s difficult to ignore how different their cocks are. Matt is shorter, but thick, while Brady is big all around. 

Brady takes a deep breath. “Let me try.” 

“What?”

“Let me try to jerk you off. I’ll do it better.”

Matt looks at him, then licks his lips. “If you say so,” he pulls his hand away. 

Brady reaches over for another pump of lotion, then spreads it around his hand a little more. He wraps fingers around Matt and gives him a slow, tight stroke. Matt lets out a breath through his mouth. 

He works his hand, keeping it tight and twisting on the upstroke, then doing a small, squeezed tight stroke around the head. “It’s better, huh?” Brady asks.   
“Yeah,” Matt sighs, then bites his lip.

Brady breaks into a smirk. “Don’t sweat it. You probably don’t even use your hands, do you?”

“Fuck,” Matt whines, thrusting a little into Brady’s hand. 

“Not when you’ve got a perfectly good mouth. Bet all the guys you do love it. You mouth off to them on the ice and they have the perfect way to shut you up afterward.”

“Brady,” he whines in response. 

“Kind of selfish of you,” Brady says. “You’re letting all these guys fuck your face and you won’t even let your little brother.” 

“I’ll let you,” he says quickly. “Please, you can do it. Fuck my face.” 

Brady shuts the computer, pushing it to the foot and grabbing Matt’s shoulder, twisting him around to kneel over Brady’s lap. “Suck it,” he says quickly, and Matt spits on his head before sinking on it. It’s so sudden -- jerking Matt off was hot but he was starting to wilt, and now it’s fucking tight and hot and wet. He thrusts into Matt’s mouth, getting both hands into his brothers’ curls and holding him down, “Fucking choke on it.”

He doesn’t let Matt show off or anything, just starts pulling, moving Matt’s head up and down his shaft like a toy. “Bet you’ve been thinking about this forever,” he says, “letting your little brother fuck your face. Bet you fucking think of this when you let other guys use you.”

Matt moans again, and Brady thrusts up into his mouth. He wants to see Matt flushed, red, choking even more. Wants to see him dirty and wet and used. 

He pulls Matt up, holding him up by his hair, and slaps him. Matt yells. “You fucking like that?” He asks, fucking back into his mouth and slapping him again. “Fuck. You feel good. Keep -- yeah. Keep choking on it.” He holds Matt’s head down against his hips, then pinches his nose shut.

It feels good to have control over him like this. To feel him struggling to get off and breathe when Brady is in control. So many times when they were kids Matt shoved him around because he could, because he was bigger than him. But now Brady is taller, nearly weighs as much, and he knows how to get Matt where it hurts. He holds Matt there, moaning, rolling his hips into Matt’s mouth while spit leaks down to his balls. “Your throat feels fucking good,” Brady compliments as Matt slaps at his hips, trying to pull off. 

Matt’s face is bright red, and not just from where he’s been slapping it. He can’t breathe and Brady can see his lashes clumping together. It’s not like he’s never made Matt cry before, he’s done it dozens of times when they were kids, but he’s always fantasized about this. About making Matt cry on his dick, about holding him down and making him take it, about Matt showing him just what a whore he was. 

“You gonna fucking cry?” Brady teases him, letting Matt go. Matt springs up, covered in spit. Big globs hang from his mouth and it’s smeared shunt across his red chin. “Little baby gonna cry about it?” Matt is still coughing, trying to catch his breath. 

It feels fucking good to have wrecked him so good he can’t even argue back. Matt looks perfect like this. Eyes glassy, face messy, like Brady could tell him to do just about anything and he’d do it without a second of hesitation.

“Get on your knees,” Brady hisses, moving from underneath him and shoving Matt down to the bed. He doesn’t even try to stay up, just folds, melting into the bed with his face pressed into a pillow. He gets a pump of lotion in his hand again and smears it down Matt’s crack, then pushes his middle finger into him. He doesn’t want to spend long on this, so he does it hard and fast, jabbing little grunts out from Matt when he adds another finger. 

“Please fuck me,” Matt whines into the pillow. “Brady, please.” 

It’s all the convincing he needs. He uses more lotion to slick his cock, then presses in. He doesn’t give Matt any time to adjust, simply sinking down to the root of his cock and wiping his hand on the pillow. He gets a hand back in Matt’s hair and lifts him right up. “Arch your fucking back,” he hisses, then slaps his brother’s ass. “Your ass is so wet,” Brady mutters, screwing his face up. Matt props himself up on his elbows, arching his back as well as he can. “You like that, big brother?”

“Yeah,” Matt replies, high and quiet. 

“Fucking say it.”

“Yeah,” he repeats a little louder. 

“Say it!”

“I want my brother’s cock,” he cries. 

“You’re a whore for it.”

“Brady,” he whines, reaching back, “please move.”

“You’re a fucking whore for it, Matthew.”

He whines, squirming and yelling into the pillow as his face flames. “I’m a whore for my little brother’s cock.” 

“Fuckin’ right, you are,” Brady says, then pulls back and grinds back in. Matt yells, clutching his pillow for dear life. “You were made for this,” he pushes Matt down again, onto his chest. “Made for taking your little brother’s dick.”

He wants to mess Matt up again. Make him red and cry and drool on himself again, feel the swell of his chest and make Matt come all over himself. Wants to watch his come drip out of his brother’s swollen little hole. 

He slaps him again. On the face, and then again and again. His hips are relentless, snapping in and out of his body, using a vice grip in his hair as leverage. It just feels so fucking good to dominate his brother in every way he can, to make him beg and cry underneath him. 

“I’m gonna come,” Matt squeaks out, trying to weasel a hand between his legs so he can jerk off. “I’m -- I’m fucking coming,” he says suddenly, and Brady freezes where he is, moving his free hand to wrap around Brady’s throat. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he says slowly, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. 

Matt blinks, then screws up his face and his lip honest to god wobbles before tears start leaking from his eyes. “Ple--”

“Stop touching your cock,” he says, squeezing Matt’s throat.

“Br--”

Brady doesn’t let him finish, pulling back and spitting across his face. As soon as he feels it, Matt’s body goes tight and he yells out, gritting his teeth and working his hips back onto Brady’s cock, then forwards against the mattress as he whimpers through an orgasm.

“You,” Brady laughs, “are such a fucking whore.”

“Use me,” Matt squeaks, and another tear slips down his cheek. “Please keep using me.” 

Brady reaches for his hand, then links their fingers together. He moves in, and for the first time, kisses Matt.

It’s wet and sloppy, and he can taste his own cock lingering on Brady’s tongue. He can feel more tears on Matt’s cheek, licks the salty taste off his brother’s lips while they suck on one another’s tongues and Brady grinds into him. 

“You gonna let me finish in you?” Brady asks, lips brushing Matt’s ear.

“Mhm,” Matt hums, nodding in response. 

“You gonna let me hear you?”

“Mhm,” he nods again. 

“Do it,” Brady says, pulling out slowly so he can press in again. “I wanna hear you. Nice and loud for your baby brother. Scream. No one is here, okay? Mom and dad won’t find out, you just gotta be nice and loud while I finish in you.” He leans in and kisses at Matt’s jaw.

He pulls out, then gives a deep, hard thrust back in. Matt moans. 

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Yell, Matty. For me.”

He doesn’t hold it in after that, voice raising until he’s screaming with every thrust, squeezing Brady’s hand in his own with his back arched as high as he can. Brady comes with his face screwed up, biting Matt’s shoulder.

“You’re a fucking mess,” Brady says fondly, flopping onto his back. Matt turns over, keeping their fingers linked and cuddling up. 

“Your fault,” he says, eyes shut peacefully. “You’re washing my sheets.” 

He’s never heard Matt sound so quiet and peaceful before. “You’re about to pass out,” Brady replies. 

“Fucking cuddle me,” Matt responds. 

“I am!” 

Matt throws a leg over him, then tilts his head up so he can mouth at Brady’s jaw. “Just wake me up before mom and dad get home, okay?”


End file.
